


My Private Happiness (kustard shorts)

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [99]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Angst, M/M, Mentions of Therapy, Oral Sex, Prejudice Against Monsters (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22479154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Sans is having a day. Maybe a couple days, hell, a collection of them.Prequels to the actual series and assorted shorts.
Relationships: Kustard, Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale), Pre-Spicyhoney - Relationship, Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Series: by any other name [99]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1039829
Comments: 101
Kudos: 165





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this is set after [Last Minute Gift](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21709294/chapters/52364641)
> 
> In terms of the series, it’s right before [Pillars of Creation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18342467/chapters/43425056), Edge and Stretch’s first ’date’.
> 
> I really need to make a chronological list of the kustard stories, Sans and Red are pains in my ass, and that’s a fact. :P

* * *

When the doors opened up at the Ebott stop, Sans got off the bus, for once not bothering to toss a ‘don’t call bus, we’ll call you’ or ‘your park is worse than your bite’ to the driver. The bus stop was right outside the Security checkpoint, and on the other side was a Monster-driven shuttle to bring all the riders into New New Home proper. 

Normally, Sans wouldn’t have bothered with it. His shortcuts were enough to take him to his own front door, further than Stretch or Red could manage even on their best days. But today he climbed on with the rest, shuffling to the back of the bus to sit, his skull leaning against the window and his sockets closed before the shuttle even pulled away. 

Being on the bus at all wasn’t his normal. He could drive, but never bothered to get a car. Usually he rode in to the Embassy with Paps, more rarely with Blue or even Edge since none of them ever pried a stick out of their pelvis enough to skip a day of work. Hitching a ride was easy and he didn’t have any of Stretch’s qualms about begging favors.

Today he didn’t feel like riding with anyone.

The card Paps gave him last night was in his pocket, the sharp edges poking his femur whenever he moved.

_“I won’t force you to go,” Papyrus told him. His normal earnest energy was banked, visibly straining against his uncommon seriousness, “but I do want you to consider it. You’ve been doing so much better, Sans, I am so proud of you. But. You could be really happy, if you wanted to, I know you can.”_

_He sank down to his knees and hugged Sans like he hadn’t since he was a babybones, too tight and too long, and after a minute, Sans returned it. The card went into his pocket without a word, stayed there when he pulled on his shorts again the next day._

Paps wasn’t wrong. He’d been going through the motions a little. Maybe. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

He still wasn’t convinced that it never would. 

The shuttle slowed at his road and Sans was up before the chime even rang. This time, he gave the driver a grin and a wave, ignoring the flash of confusion in their eye as no pun heralded his exit.

Too bad, they could live without his shining personality for one fucking day.

He and Paps lived at the end of the road, in a cardboard cutout-style house that was exactly the same on either side. Except their house was a sanctuary for lawn ornaments, Papyrus could never resist one. Flamingos and gnomes, fairies and bright, garish sunflowers made of scrap metal. Gyftmas was months ago now but that didn’t stop Santa from greeting anyone who came over to visit, and the collection of bird baths offered any avians accommodations as lush as the finest resort. 

Every time the Edgelord walked past the cheery clown with its bright red grin stationed right next to the sidewalk his eye socket twitched, and that right there was worth the price of admission. 

Sans trudged down the sidewalk towards that wonderland, but his eye lights were on his sneakers. One of the knots was coming loose as he watched, slowly unraveling until one lace trailed along like a cooked spaghetti noodle. That idle observation seemed to give permission for his mind to let Papyrus wander back into his thoughts.

Looked like he’d given up not thinking along with everything else. 

Yeah, Paps was right, wasn’t he--

(wasn’t he always, really, Sans could never hide as much from him as he wished he could, Paps was so cool)

\--he was getting by, sure. Doing the Embassy thing, helping out, hell, that was better than Stretch did. Then again, if he was gonna hold himself up to someone for a mental health comparison, Stretch was probably not the best candidate. Everyone knew that, ‘cept maybe Edge who was too busy trying not to let himself know how badly he wanted to get into those ugly pants to fondle some bones. That slow-motion train wreck was the main reason Sans turned Stretch down some months ago when he’d inquired about a quickie, more’s the pity.

Anyway.

Yeah, he was doing better, but even he couldn’t lie himself a fairytale and say he was happy. Fuck, what was happy, anyway? 

All came down to the kid. Sans still wasn’t positive about Frisk, even if everything seemed all hunky dory, all of ‘em on the surface, seeing the sunsets and stargazing with real stars.

It all seemed like a pie and cake dream, but he knew what Stretch had gone through back in his own world. Some of Sans’s memories cracked open when they arrived, blurred snippets that matched the few scrawled notes he’d found in the basement. Yellow petals, the insanity of a high, sweet laugh. 

Yeah, he’d known about the anomaly from his notebooks, but getting to remember anything of it was another level. 

Not that any of ‘em really discussed it, fuck, no. The science behind it, sure, math and equations were sterile, safe. He, Red, and Stretch were bonafide experts at not talking, PhDs unite.

But being Judges gave them the unique perspective, dinnit. Looking into Stretch’s soul and seeing the guilt there, the sins that crawled up his spine about his brother and the Underswap kid…yeah. Unique perspective, that was one way to put it. Sans didn’t blame Stretch one bit for tucking the Judge away, boxing it up in the back of his skull, and refusing to see anymore. Talk about someone doing much better; when Stretch first got here, his soul was so fragile that Red tried to get Sans in on bet that he’d dust within a month. Sans hadn’t taken him up on it, but quietly thought he was right, watching with his own version of apathy that wasn’t much kinder than Red’s, waiting for him to fall down. 

That he hadn’t was maybe the ‘Papyrus’ in him, because it sure as hell wasn’t the ‘Sans’, and Sans’s lack of effort to help him back then was a sin of his own waltzing along his backbone. 

Stretch was doing a lot better these days, enough to argue with Edge with some pretty nasty zingers. Gossip around the Embassy was that those two finally had a date coming up, at the planetarium of all places. He hoped for all their sanity it went well.

Sanity, heh. He touched the card through his pocket, traced the edges of it. Doctor Lee, psychiatrist, specializing in Trauma and PTSD. A plain white card, the black letters glossy and embossed. He didn’t need to look at it, he remembered every word on it down to the phone number. He almost did anyway but a prickle along his senses made him pause.

Someone was following him. 

Hm. 

Interesting.

He could easily shortcut into the house, but where was the fun in that. 

Instead, he kept trudging along, didn’t so much as change his pace. Passed a lady and her kiddo, gave ‘em a toothy smile. Walked on past Santa, the clown, the gnomes and the vampire flamingo as he headed in the house.

Before he even closed the door, hands were on him, shoving him backwards. Sans stumbled as the door swung shut, slamming hard, and his shoulders struck the smooth surface. Even without those gleaming crimson eye lights, he would’ve known those hands, sharp fingertips prickling through his t-shirt and against his ribs.

“heya sansy,” Red breathed against the side of his skull. “been missing me?”

“kinda a strange question since you were the one getting in some stalking practice.” Sans was pretty proud at how even his voice was considered the way Red was grinding their crotches together. “still need to log some hours before you can get certified?”

Hot breath couched in laughter gusted against his skull, making Sans shiver. “nah, i went pro years ago. but you gotta use a skill or you lose it, yeah?” Those sharp fingertips skimmed lower, down to wear his t-shirt was riding up to barely expose his iliac crest. “speakin’a practice, there’s a thing or three i might need some help with to keep my skill level up.”

He hadn’t been alone with Red since that time at the Gyftmas party and if this wasn’t getting his rocks off, then that memory was. Red pressed against his back, jerking him off, the cold siding of the house beneath his cheekbone and the thrilling fear of being caught.

“yeah? somethin’ you want some help with, huh.” Sans asked. He couldn’t quite achieve boredom, not with his crotch giving him away.

“yeah, been meaning to give my knees a good workout and if you help, i don’t get a crick in my neck.”

Sans exhaled shakily. Paps could be home any minute now, open the door with a jangle of keys, could catch Red blowing him right in their doormat with drool and come running down his chin. His bedroom was right upstairs, the bathroom, hell, the laundry room had a lock on the door.

All Sans said was, “you really want to go with short jokes?”

“can only work with the material you’ve got.” 

Red didn’t drop to his knees so much as he slithered, pulling Sans’s shorts carelessly along for the ride. His dick got caught at the waistband and Sans winced as the fabric scraped along the head before it let loose, making his dick bob like a cork in a lake.

Wasn’t any time to bitch about it. Red swallowed him down in one gulp, the hot, velvety magic coating his mouth made Sans choke out a moan. He slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling the next one, but it became a groan of disappointment as Red pulled off.

“don’t you dare, sansy,” he snarled. Those crimson eye lights burned in the darkened foyer. “you let me hear every fucking whimper.”

“yes, boss, whatever you say, boss,” Sans snarked, but sarcasm was a lost cause when Red ducked his head again, a long tongue curling around his shaft. Fuck, so slippery tight, better than a hand. The sound that crept through Sans’s teeth was closer to a yowl and he felt the vibration of a hum of amusement.

Okay, yeah, Sans wasn’t past a little vindictiveness. He grabbed Red’s skull in both hands and jerked him down, thrusting in hard to nudge at the back of Red’s formed throat. Good plan in theory, but Red only swallowed him down easily, let Sans do it again, riding his face rougher than he’d usually dare.

Dimly, Sans could hear another slick sound, a counterpoint to the obscene glick that came with every thrust that glided past Red’s dangerously sharp teeth. He was jerking himself off, his shoulder moving with every stroke, and Red was moaning, shaky and low, deep in his throat and fuck, the feeling of it made Sans quiver down to his toes.

The first splash of come landed on Red’s tongue and he wrested away from Sans’s grip before the second could fall, his hand taking the place of his mouth as he stroked Sans through it, spurts of deep blue streaking across his t-shirt.

“fuck,” Sans croaked out, both in pleasure and dismay. “that’s gonna stain, you shit.”

“guess you’ll have to make a another thrift store run,” Red said with vindictive cheer. A thread of that same blue was running down his chin and Sans wiped it away before it could drip. Red watched, eye lights narrowing as Sans licked that droplet from his finger, tasting the sharp sourness of his own magic.

“that what you wanted?” Sans asked, all false politeness and solicitude. For a long moment there was no answer, only Red staring at him with those demon eye lights.

“yeah, sure,” Red said finally, almost absently distracted. “thanks for the good time, see ya around.” 

It was only when Red vanished that Sans got a good look at his own feet and saw the splashes of crimson on his sneakers. 

That fucker came on his shoes and didn’t even offer to get him a towel. 

Outrage was out of reach and Sans only laughed helplessly, sliding down the door until he was slumped on the floor, shorts around his ankles, his shirt soaked with his own jizz and his shoes dripping with someone else’s.

That card was digging in to his ankle and Sans pulled it out with a wince. It was wrinkled, the card stock creased, but it was still legible.

_You could be really happy, if you wanted to. I know you can._

His brother would be home soon, might see him like this, might already know what was going on, Paps was so smart and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d hid his disappointment in Sans behind loud indignation. What _was_ going on? Who the fuck knew, Red’s mind was a maze and Sans was shit at puzzles.

Happy. Could be happy. Maybe.

Sans sighed and pulled out his phone.

-finis-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with the world's bullshit is exhausting, especially when that bullshit includes Red's bro. Stretch and Edge finally went on a damn date and all Red can hope for now is they don't fuck it up, 'cause he's got his own shit to handle, thanks, lots and lots of handling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we can see the behind the scenes after[ Pillars of Creation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18342467/chapters/43425056) , Edge and Stretch’s first ’date’.
> 
> While those two were feeling there way through their emotions, Sans and Red were feeling their way through a little more literally. 😉

* * *

Someone was in his house. 

Since the boss moved out, Red was gettin’ used to living on his own. Spending his morning kicking his way through trash and balled up socks, and his nights scarfing down fast food, leaving the wrappers to molder behind the sofa in between the days he headed over to his bro’s place to raid the fridge. 

Tonight, he was full of Pap’s cooking…no, Edge, it was Edge now. Funny, innit, how easy it was to toss his own name into the trash, but his thoughts still slipped up sometimes when it came to his bro. 

Point was, he didn’t have a little brother in his house to trip over anymore or demand he get his ass up and out to his sentry post ‘fore Undyne caught him slackin’. He lived on his own and he fucking well liked it.

So whoever it was that decided hangin’ out in his living room was a good life choice was gonna figure out what a mistake they’d made getting’ up this morning real fast.

Red kicked off his shoes on the doormat that his bro left when he moved out, not looking in the direction of that presence. He yawned, scrubbing an idle hand over his face, then he whipped around and sent out an attack, light on the intent but enough to get someone’s attention right quick. Turned out that any intent was a bad idea and weren’t they lucky-loos that Sans sidestepped the bones easily. Sans was a dick but that didn’t mean Red woulda been happy to bring him home to Papyrus in a jar.

“the fuck you doin’ in my house,” Red growled. The house was plenty warm, he kept the temp higher than when Edge was living here, but he kept his jacket on, shoving his hands into the pockets as he glared at Sans. 

Not that it had any effect, course it fucking didn’t. Sans sidesteps dirty looks as easily as attacks, his grin mild and unoffended as he said, “you’re late. s’friday.”

Fuck him if it wasn’t. Friday was when they got together for their weekly review of the local gossips, plus whatever goods they needed to discuss outside of the Embassy’s listening walls, and Red woulda remembered that if it weren’t for the fact that Edge and Stretch were finally taking their first uncertain step towards the fucking that they should’ve been doing for ages now. 

Eh, it was more than that, though, wasn’t it. If it were just fucking, Red wouldn’t give a shit. Something about the honey bun, though. Wasn’t real obvious, ‘cept to him and maybe Sans, but if he saw, Sans kept his cards tucked in close to his chest. Could only see it if you knew how to look right and it was kinda nice to take a peek at someone’s soul and see somethin’…nice, for a change. Somethin’ that could be good for his brother, if he could pry his skull out of his pelvis long enough to get ahold of it.

For Sans, all Red had was a one-shouldered shrug. “’bout the only new news i got is that edge and stretch finally went out tonight. my bro only just got home.”

Sans only looked all the more amused, his grin ticking upward on one side as he tucked hands into his hoodie pockets, turning himself into Red’s more saintly mirror image. Course, if anyone took the lack of demon eye lights and sharp teeth as a clue that Sans was on the side of the angels, they deserved what they got.

“sounds like the date didn’t go too bad then, huh?” Sans asked, 

“heh. well, they didn’t fuck, if that’s what you were hopin’ for.” If Red were perfectly honest, that probably wasn’t on the table for a while yet. For all their vicious flirting, Edge never did show much of an interest in getting pelvic with anyone so far and Red was kinda hoping that wasn’t a dealbreaker for the honeybun.

“no one was laying odds on that,” Sans snorted. “they goin’ out again?”

“according to my bro’s phone record, they are.” And from what he saw, this time the date was Edge’s choice. Might have to keep an eye on that and make sure he didn’t invite the honey bun over for fucking crosswords or deep-cleaning the carpet, some shit like that. Didn’t have to get pelvic, but shit, Edge would have to do a little better to entertain Stretch. Speakin’ of pelvises… Red licked his teeth and asked, “you wanna talk about my bro’s dating habits or you wanna try somethin’ else? think it’s your turn, sansy.”

Anyone else might’ve tucked tail and ran at that little insinuation. Sans only shrugged and some people would call the gleam in his eye lights sadistic. Red wasn’t one of ‘em, but he still frowned when Sans said, easily, “could do both.”

Yeah, okay, they probably could, if they really fuckin’ had to and Red guessed they did, because he wasn’t about to let Sans win that one even if thinkin’ about his baby bro alongside sex about made his libido crawl back into his soul.

It was the work of minutes to get settled on the sofa, his shorts pulled down to the tops of his femurs and soon enough Sans’s head was bobbing in Red’s lap as he sucked his cock with lazy enthusiasm. Red sighed, setting a hand on the back of Sans’s skull. Not really guiding, just letting him make his way downtown, homeward bound, the magic of his formed mouth slick and his tongue cushiony plush as it wound around the shaft. 

“know somethin’? if the honey bun hurts my bro, i’m gonna kill him,” Red said, with enough relish to top one of those cheap-ass hot dogs Sans was so fucking fond of. He couldn’t hold back a gasp as Sans hummed thoughtfully, choking out, “could do it easy. make it look like an accident, no one’d ever guess.”

Sans pulled off, licking his teeth and leaving behind a film of pink. “no, you won’t.”

“you sure?” Red teased. Abruptly, he remembered that Stretch put in an offer to Sans once for something like this. Probably only wanted some friendly touchy-feely, the honey bun leaned towards desperate the first few months after they got here, but it still happened, even if Sans told him no. He tried to pull Sans’s head back down, the cold air on his wet dick wasn’t exactly pleasant, but he resisted. 

“course i’m sure.” Sans rolled essentially his entire face before he leaned down and swiped his tongue messily across the head of Red’s dick. “if you were making murder plans, you wouldn’t’ve told me.”

Huh. That made too much sense and Red sank back, disgruntled. “you blowin’ me or not?”

“guess if that’s the only two options, i’ll stick with column a.”

“i got your column right here,” Red grumbled. Sans’s chuckle was reduced to a low groan as Red pushed back between his teeth into the plush softness of his mouth. Hearing it made him itch for more, made him want to shove Sansy off and get him on his knees, tear those shorts off him and see how lazy he was when Red was riding him like a bastard, rutting against him while he choked out those little groans until they went strangled and whining. 

But that ain’t the deal, is it. 

Red let his head drop back, clenching his own groans back behind his teeth as Sans worked him with that sweet, hot mouth, and let his mind go blank.

He’d done enough thinking for one night.

-fin


	3. Status Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so what, Red is sick. 
> 
> Why the hell does that mean he has to be in Sans's house?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me apologize for the timeline being all over the place with these two. 😭
> 
> This is set not long after Monsters come to the surface, long before Red and Sans try on a little round of 'assholes with benefits' and waaaay before anything else. Hope that makes sense!

* * *

“what the hell is he doing here?”

The last thing Sans expected to find when he came back home from a trip to nap on one of the park benches was his Underfell clone in his bro’s room, snuggled up tight in Papyrus’s bed. The only reason the blasters weren’t coming out was that Paps wasn’t in the bed with him. Also, Red looked pretty unconscious but Sans wasn’t counting on that to stop him from pulling some shit.

Papyrus was dabbing at Red’s face with a wet cloth, the joints in his fingers still glowing faintly green from what must’ve been a wallop of healing magic. It was practically crackling in the air still, like the world’s kindest static electricity.

“He is sleeping,” Paps said, with enough of a ‘duh’ tone that Sans couldn’t stop a grin, “a state of being that I assumed you would easily recognize, since you practice it so often.”

“uh huh. why is he sleeping and why there?”

“From what I understand, he has been ill for days.” Papyrus tossed the wet cloth into a bowl and stood, and Sans frowned inwardly as his brother wobbled on his feet. Trying too hard to heal the asshole, for sure, like he deserved Paps’s personal attention. He had his own fucking brother to look after him, thanks, and if Edge didn’t want to put on the nurse costume that didn’t mean Papyrus had to start digging through his closet for one, even if he had the legs for it.

As if sensing Sans’s internal grouching, Papyrus said, quietly, eh, well, quietly for him. “Edge is still out of town and Red refused to go to the hospital, so I brought him here.”

Great, that was all they needed. Even after finding their strays a home, looked like some of ‘em couldn’t stop from coming back to check the ol’ food bowl. He and Paps had been about as helpful with the other skeletons as anyone could expect by Sans’s account; having four clones show up on their doorstep, two apiece, should’ve been enough to throw anyone off their game, especially when they worked through the data to figure out how it all happened. But not his bro, no, ‘course not. Papyrus was delighted for the game to go into overtime. He welcomed ‘em all in like they were long lost family, planning movie nights and summer barbecues with the ‘cousins’ before they’d even gotten up to see the sun. 

Meh, it was easier for him, though. Paps got off lucky in that department, at least his murder clone kept mostly to himself while he got his new life into order and his mirror twin only wanted to smoke and lay on the sofa while Sans got stuck with the energizer rabbit version of Suzy Homemaker and the asshole.

None of that was Papyrus’s fault, though.

“yeah?” Sans barely gave the lump under his brother’s blankets a glance. “if you’d left him on the street, someone would’ve called an ambulance eventually and they coulda strapped him down. That’d save the two of us from playing _pair-of-medics.”_

“Sans! First, that would be rude!” Papyrus scolded. “And second, if you think for one moment I could leave a skeleton Monster who looks so much like you lying in the street, then we need to have another Brotherly Bonding Night, I believe it’s your turn to pick the game. And third, I think everyone knows he would have taken a shortcut to anywhere to avoid that whether it was a paramedics or more. They would have knocked on our door for help and we would be here anyway, so by bringing him here, I eliminated at least three steps! It was efficient!”

Guess Sans couldn’t argue that. He could damn well argue what came next, though.

“Now, sit with him while I make some soup! We still have some tomatoes on which I can demonstrate my might!” The way he pounded his fist in his hand didn’t bode well for the kitchen, but eh, at least the flavors were getting better. It was when he backtracked to the first part of that statement that Sans stood up straighter, appalled. 

“why do i gotta sit with him?” Sans whined. His plan that he’d just come up with was to hide in his bedroom until the asshole was out of the house. 

“Because of the two of us, you are the expert in seated occupancy.” Sans let his grin widen. Trust Paps to be able to sling some shade even healing-exhausted. His bro was the coolest.

He looked back at their uncool guest and scowled. “and why does he need a babysitter?”

“Because he is vulnerable and if he wakes, he will feel better if someone is keeping watch.” Pretty thoughtful, even if it was for a guy that didn’t deserve it. 

A Check tossed his way might still show Red’s name as ‘Sans’, but that was about where the real resemblance ended. From the moment he’d landed in their living room, Red was all out proving he was an asshole through and through, nothing was holding his skeleton together but hot air and snark, frosted with violent tendencies. About the only thing that kept Sans from tossing his ass back out into the snow was Papyrus. 

He’d toned back on the snark these days, a little. One might even suggest that lately Red treated Papyrus rather fondly, if one was crazy and/or an asshole, or somehow otherwise emotionally degenerate.

Sans wasn’t the emotionally degenerate one, so he flung himself into the chair, waving Paps off to the kitchen before he could ask for anything else that Sans wouldn’t be able to turn down. From this angle, he could actually see Red or what little of him wasn’t buried into the blankets. 

Yeah, okay, Red looked like shit. His skull was chalky-pale where it wasn’t pink-streaked by sweat, sockets closed to hide those creepy red eye lights. Those sawblade teeth were parted while he drooled messily on Paps’s clean sheets. Who knew what the fuck the asshole was sick with, low HP made ‘em prone to catching any ol’ germ floating around. Probably Sans shouldn’t even be sitting here, he was gonna get the Ebott Mountain Spotted flu or something and—

“don’” It wasn’t more than a frail whisper, Red’s teeth barely moving. 

“huh?” Sans leaned in, tilting his skull for a better listen. Red stirred a little, rolling on his back, but didn’t seem to wake. His brow bone furrowed, making the crack that ran through his one socket gape disturbingly wider. 

“don’,” Red mumbled again, wispy low. “don’t. pap.” He started shivering, little unbalanced jerks rocking him, setting his bones rattling like castanets.

Sans frowned, leaning in closer. Nightmares he had some passing familiarity with, though he suspected the Fell bros had a hellava lot more viewing material. He wasn’t real sure about those two; he could see their souls, their sins, and still couldn’t quantify them. Oh, sure, he’d done a song and dance for Asgore about ‘em, how Edge’s LVL was caused by him being a soldier, not a serial killer and Red didn’t have any at all. But that was about all he got from a shallow peek into their souls and he hadn’t really wanted to take a high dive into the deep end of their sins.

Still, he’d never met anyone whose soul gave him so little damn insight and he morbidly wondered if it was because they’d learned to keep it pretty close to the chest, pun intended, ‘cause of the state of their world. Edge wasn’t the chatty sort but he’d told them enough about Underfell to make Sans pretty glad the Universes toppled the way they did. 

Red was still shaking, kicking off the blankets and his bones were flushed with fever. He made a hissing, hushing sound, blurred and slurry, “don’ cry, baby bro, i gotcha. won’t let ‘em, shhhhh.” He struggled to roll over again, smearing crimson sweat on the sheets as those knifey fingers of his stabbed right into the mattress while he groped for nothing, letting out what was almost a sob, “paps!”

It was pretty fucking stupid the way those few words made Sans’s soul lurch. So fucking what, the guy cared about his bro. Didn’t make him less of an asshole. 

And it didn’t mean shit when Sans reached down to pick up the wet cloth Paps’d been using, wringing it out and gingerly wiping off Red’s face even as he kept a close eye on those Edward Scissorhands of his. Yeah, he was gonna get sick, for sure, the germs were probably parading up his arm even as he dabbed away that trickling sweat. 

Red quivered again, wracked with shudders, mumbling out their brothers’ shared name with disturbingly poignant despair and suddenly, Sans couldn’t stand to watch it anymore.

“paps is fine,” Sans said, softly, “he’s fine. he’s safe.”

’Safe’ seemed to be the magic work, Red sagging back into the sheets with a weak sigh. Sans kept up those low reassurances until Red settled a little more, leaning into the cloth as Sans wiped his face, those almost-sobs clotting into snoring. Sans dipped the rag into the ice water again, wringing it out some and setting the cool rag on Red’s forehead.

“fucking asshole,” Sans muttered, hopping down from his chair to pull the tangle of blankets back over Red before he could get a chill and make a stupid cold even more complicated. Sooner the asshole got better, the sooner they could kick him back to his own house. 

Until then, Sans climbed back in the chair and settled in to keep watch. Didn’t mean anything, he’d told Papyrus he would, was all, and he’d done worse things before than sitting around watching Red sleep. 

And when Red stirred again, calling weakly for his bro, Sans didn’t hesitate to tell him he was safe. 

-finis-


	4. Words Cannot Espresso How Much You Bean To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the current timeline, Sans starts out his morning.

* * *

Sans never would have expected Red to be prissy about anything, but when it came to his coffee, he didn’t fuck around. The only real appliances in the kitchen were a coffee grinder and an electric kettle, both set primly on the back of the counter, awaiting their daily work. 

There was a package of whole beans sitting next to them with a label from the Beanery, the wobbly font declaring it to be High Octane. 

Trust Red’s beverage of choice to be some kind of Mad Max knockoff. 

Sans didn’t know much about coffee past the basic ‘let’s ask our man on the street’ shit. They didn’t have real coffee in the Underground, it was hard enough growing regular food and turned out that Amazon actually can’t ship to anywhere. 

First time Sans had actual coffee, if you could call it that, was not long after Monsters came to the surface for the first time. Asgore was being cautious about the whole thing and considering what happened to his kid, wasn’t anyone blaming him for it. Seemed like Humans picked up a little compassion over the years because after the first round of ‘Eeek, a Monster!’ came the charity workers. 

Those few groups of Humans went a long way towards proving that Frisk’s compassion wasn’t a fluke. Turned out the Monsters all plunked their shoes on the surface right at the beginning of spring and even at the bottom of the Mountain, there was still some snow on the ground. The Government was still scratching hairy asses, trying to figure out treaties when the first Humans turned up in buses and vans, arguing their way past the blockades the police set up and headed right for where Monsters were trying to make some kind of shelter. They brought plenty of blankets and tents, put up cookhouses to turn out wholesome meals for an exhausted people who hadn’t realized what a journey it would be down the mountain. 

Sans had been sitting wrapped up in a blanket with Papyrus; there weren’t enough to go around yet and they were skinny enough to share. Close by were their counterparts, still strangers to them after only a month of sharing close quarters at their house. 

Stretch was snoring away, sprawled across his brother’s lap and his long, skinny legs poking out from under their blanket. There was a suspicious looking lump snoring nearby under another blanket that was probably Red. Edge didn’t have a blanket because obviously badasses kept the freezing cold away by the sheer force of their shining personalities. 

Then again, from the way he was glaring at anything that held still long enough, maybe it was his bad mood lighting up his pelvic cavity. Fuck knew that Stretch had been stoking that fire for the past month; even Sans had to admit the guy had a way with an insult. 

Sans didn’t miss the way Edge had a hand settled on that lumpy blanket next to him. Hugs never seemed to have ended up on the menu back in their universe, but Edge still tended to keep his bro within reach. It was one of his most redeeming characteristics, in Sans’s opinion. 

Meanwhile, over here in Chateau Papyrus, awesome bros sat with their brothers and helped keep them warm. Yeah, okay, Paps was more asleep than not and most of his weight was slumped against Sans’s back, but since that was helping to keep his reverse side toasty, Sans wasn’t about to complain. The main entrance was still letting in the breeze and Sans did what he could to hold the blanket ends together. 

Strange how years living in Snowdin didn’t give any damned resistance to the chilliness of the surface. 

“Would you like some coffee?”

That voice came from almost directly overhead. Sans looked up into a shiny, smiling Human face, attached to a body that was holding a tray filled with cups. Kid probably wasn’t much older than Frisk, Sans wasn’t sure, he didn’t have a good gauge on Human ages. 

“yeah, i’d love that a latte,” Sans told the kid. Kid laughed out loud and handed him a disposable cup. The heat traveled through the thick paper sides and Sans held it tightly, almost groaning at the warmth. 

“Drink it,” the kid urged. They looked a little wary as they handed a cup to Edge, who took it wordlessly, turning his fire gaze towards the contents. He nudged the lump that was his brother…eh, maybe more of a smack than a nudge, and Red crawled out to take a cup of his own. The kid looked happy to see them all sipping at their offering, and said brightly, “It’ll keep you warm until the sun gets higher.” They winked and added, “Gonna be a brew-tiful day out.”

Right around then was when Sans decided things were gonna be okay. Even if the coffee tasted like shit.

That first cup of cheap instant coffee was like getting shown the rusted-out hulk of an old Chevy beater only to realize later that everyone else drove a Mercedes. Yeah, the Chevy got you where you needed to go, but damn if a fella didn’t like a smoother ride.

Red was very particular about his precious liquid caffeine. First, grind the beans, add them to the filter in his weird-ass coffee brewer that looked like an empty hourglass. Boil the water to just under 90 degrees Celsius. Pour in enough boiling water to wet the grounds, then let it sit for a minute to allow it to bloom. Add the rest of the water, careful to pour in a circular motion over the grounds, and then let the works sit until it all filtered through. Toss the grounds and the filter, pour the steaming hot cup of joe into a mug with some dumbass joke on it, and done. No additives, Red took it as black as the inside of his skull and so did Sans; they left the sweet stuff to Stretch. 

For a guy who had no trouble eating pizza that was sitting on the coffee table for three days, Red sure showed his flipside when it came to coffee. Sans didn’t mind; there were worse things to be a picky bitch about. Like blowjobs and Red never minded a nice, long trip downtown. 

Sans took the time to rinse out the coffee maker for tomorrow before he picked up today’s mugs (Each declaring, ‘Look, a cup of fuckoffee’ and ‘thanks for all the orgasms’, respectively) and started back upstairs. He managed to thwart Ozzy’s daily murder attempt on the third step without spilling any as the cat ran between his feet and headed to the bedroom. 

That snoring lump beneath the blankets hadn’t changed much over the years. About the only thing that different was A. How readily it stirred at the wafting aroma of the bean and B. that Sans now slept next to it rather than watching from afar. 

That said, he wasn’t getting too close just yet, only stood back as a figure emerged from the depths, groaning like a zombie waking up from a particularly racy one-night stand. 

“got something for you,” Sans said, holding up the mugs, “hot and ready.”

“i know you are, but where’s the coffee,” Red groaned. He sat up enough to reach out with grabby hands for the orgasm mug. Nah, don’t think so. Sans held it out of reach, offering fuckoffee, instead. Red took it, grudgingly, grunting out, “that a statement on how fast i fell asleep last night.”

Not specifically, since Sans knew Red was still recovering from his latest near-death experience and wherever the hell he'd been almost all the night before. It was more like an opportunity to rile Red up and Sans never missed out a chance to be a dick to Red, especially when he’d already missed out on a chance of personally using his. 

With that in mind, Sans said, easily, “if i gotta diy, i get the thank yous.”

Red probably had a thing or three to say to that and might’ve even done it, if he wasn’t downing half his mug in one swallow, his groan a muffled echo from within the cup. “fuck, that’s perfect, sansy.”

“good to hear,” Sans waited until he was sure he wasn’t going to have to haul Red back out of the mug by his feet, then sat on the side of the bed with his own cup, “if the whole security thing doesn’t work out, i can get a job as a barista.”

“wouldn’t go that far, but I’d hire you as a part-time coffee boy.”

“pretty sure i’m already doing that for free.” 

Then he nearly choked on his own coffee as Red suddenly moved, fuck, he could be fast when he wanted, shifting to settle his head right into Sans’s lap, leering up at him with his mostly empty mug sitting on top of his sternum. 

“i’m wide awake, now, sansy,” Red reached up, the sharpened tip of his finger a tantalizing threat as it traced along the collar. Barely prickling against his cervical vertebra, trailing downward to fondle his clavicles even as Red started to nudge up Sans’s t-shirt with his chin, “let’s see how hot and ready you really are.”

Sans fumbled to shove both mugs onto the cluttered nightstand, settled his mostly caffeine-free hands shakily on Red’s skull. 

Fuck Folgers and Maxwell House, this was the best part of waking up and Sans knew for a fact it’d be good to the last drop.

-fin-


End file.
